Regret
by elegantmesspotter
Summary: After coming home from war, Loki goes looking for his best friend and he will never be the same. Pre-Thor (2011) Warning: Mentions of past abuse...


It had been nearly two years since he had been home to Asgard. He had blindly followed Thor in to the war on Nidavellir. He was beyond weary. The dwarves were difficult people and the war had gone on far too long. They had finally arrived at the tipping point and Odin had come to settle the terms of the peace.

They were greeted by a roaring crowd all bent on congratulating the victors. The war was hard fought, many died, and those that remained hardly felt victorious. But they smiled for the crowd anyways. His eyes searched the crowd. Hoping that he would see her there. She was not.

Thor glanced over at him. "Surely you didn't expect to see her here, eager to see you? You left shortly before her wedding." Thor chuckled. "Even I know that was a poor idea."

"Shut up, Thor." Loki groused.

"I know that you thought it a poor match for her to wed that bumbling guard, but her family obligations had to come before her best friend's opinion." Thor shook his head at his stubborn younger brother. "If you're that concerned, go see her. I'll make certain you're not missed." Thor turned and with a loud shout drew attention to himself. The crowd cheered in return. Loki watched with a wry grin as the crowd followed Thor as he led them into the palace. They would follow the golden prince anywhere.

Loki crept silently back in the shadows and back out in to the streets. With a little bit of magic his leather coat became a long woolen cloak with a hood that he pulled up to cover his face. He melted into the crowds and not a soul noticed him, except one.

He was grateful for Thor's help. He had never told the truth to a single soul of why he left before her wedding. They had all grown up together. Sif, Thor, Fandral, Loki, and her. She was the youngest and had trailed after Loki most. Over time they had become the best of friends though they had not started out that way. While Sif, Fandral and Thor had taken quickly to the warrior's training she and Loki had learned magic from Frigga. The mischief they caused was the stuff of legend. He loved hearing her laugh. They spent so much time together it was rare to see one without the other. Loki had fallen in love with her, and just before he had worked up the courage to tell her, she had come to him sad, with terrible news. Her parents had arranged a marriage for her. She had fought with them to no avail. The match had been approved and the wedding was set for mere days later. He had tried to convince her to run away with him but she would not dishonor her family by breaking the agreement. He left to join Thor on Nidavellir that night.

It was late afternoon by the time he reached the house of her husband. He pulled off his hood, slipped in through the back garden, and peered in through the kitchen window hoping to sneak up on her and surprise her like he always had.

The sight that greeted made him heartsick. She was a shadow of her former self. Ragged clothes hung from her wasted body. She crouched on the floor, one arm wrapped tightly around her rib cage, scrubbing as hard as her weakened frame would allow. She coughed weakly and Loki saw blood dribble from her mouth. As some of the blood dripped on the floor, she anxiously tried to clean the mess. He could stand it no longer and rushed through the door.

She began to panic, "I'm sorry for the mess, I'm almost done cleaning." She rambled as she frantically swiped at the tiny spots of blood.

Loki dropped to his knees before her and she flinched away, raising a bruised arm to guard her face. "Butterfly?" his voice cracked.

Her arm lowered slowly at the use of her childhood nickname. Her face and body was littered with bruises and scrapes, both new and old. Her wrists bore scars he thought he'd never see away from a battlefield; at some point, she had been bound with heavy shackles. She looked at him in confusion. "Silvertongue?"

He nodded and reached carefully for her hand. She flinched slightly and pulled away from him.

There was a commotion in the back garden, heavy footsteps and a man's drunken curses. A look of horror crossed her face as she suddenly began pushing on him. "You have to go! You shouldn't be here. He'll be angry… He might hurt you… He'll…," she pleaded.

Loki shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere." His voice was hard. He stood, the woolen cloak fading away to reveal his leather and armor. She stared at the battle hardened man before her, gone was the mischievous boy that she'd fallen in love with, gone was the spoiled prince that fled when his friend wouldn't run away with him because he couldn't stand to share her time with another. This was a man she didn't know, and the power that radiated from him almost frightened her.

She pulled herself back as her husband barged in staggeringly drunk as usual. He yelled at Loki and lunged at him. She shrank back against the wall as they fought. Her husband tried again to hit Loki but Loki was too quick. He repeatedly struck her husband, finally shoving the man against the far wall and holding him there one hand tightly clenched around his neck.

Black crept into her vision as she watched her husband's face purple. She had begun studying to be a healer before the wedding. She knew her husband had broken several of her ribs and punctured her lung that morning after he had dragged her back up from being shackled in the basement the night before. She was losing blood internally, and about to lose consciousness. "Loki…" she called weakly.

He dropped her husband and was by her side instantly. He gently scooped her up, mindful of her injuries. "I'm taking you to the healing room right now."

Her trembling hand rested against his cheek. "I'm so glad I got to see you again." She whispered as everything went dark.

He should have told her, he should have made her come with him. He should have ruined the wedding, declared his love for her openly. She looked so frail against the soft white sheets. His shoulders hunched, his head bowed over, he clutched her hand, and silent tears crept down his cheeks. Thankfully, his mother had followed him. Together they had gotten her to the healing rooms. Eir was still unsure if she would survive the damage done to her body.

Loki had not left her side for a moment. "Please Butterfly, I need you. You have to wake up." He whispered brokenly. He felt a feather light touch on the back of his head.

"Loki…" her voice was so weak.

His head shot up and he leaned forward to place a light kiss on her forehead. "Oh Butterfly," he murmured.

She began to cough. He helped her gently roll to her side, as she held a cloth to her mouth. When he laid the cloth back on the table, it was stained with her blood. Frigga looked to Eir, and Eir shook her head sadly. She and Loki both saw the look that passed between the older women. Frigga gave her son a sad look and both of the women left quietly.

"Please, tell me a story." She asked softly. "You know I love your reading voice. It's why I started calling you Silvertongue." She smiled.

He climbed into the bed beside her and drew her into his arms. "When we were children I used to call you Bug. Do you remember that?"

She nodded.

He smiled, "When we were little, it used to bother me that you followed us around, and that's why I called you Bug. I felt you were little more than a pest, an insect. It bothered me even more when you began learning magic with my mother and I. I didn't want you there. I called you Bug for years after you ceased to annoy me. In fact, I had come to enjoy the stolen moments with you more than with any other person. You made me laugh. You shared in my joys and my embarrassment. You lifted me up when the others called me weak for preferring magic to brute strength. You helped me when Sigyn chose another over me. I saw you, but yet I did not truly see you. The day of the Winter Solstice was the day I stopped calling you Bug. Fandral had been so terrible to your friend and we had thrown that bag of horse dung over the balcony at him."

She giggled at the memory.

"We ran. Ran like the wind. We tumbled out in my mother's garden, there was a light dusting of snow, and we slipped. We both fell, and I landed almost right on top of you. You were laughing, your beautiful hair loose, and a light flush on your cheeks. I remember that was the moment I realized, I loved you."

"Loki…" she whispered, but he lightly placed his finger on her lips.

"That's when I stopped calling you Bug, because I realized you were no longer a child, but you had grown into a woman, as though you had emerged from a chrysalis, and before that moment I had been blind. I was so wrapped up in my own problems, my own petty things that I failed to see that my best friend, the girl I had known most of my life had grown into the most beautiful person I knew. Your kind heart, your bright shining eyes, your lighthearted laugh, you were my Butterfly. But I couldn't tell you. I was afraid that you wouldn't want me. I know I have a cruel heart at times, that I can be vain and arrogant. So I tried to be better. I hoped that one day I could be worthy of you. And I held it in. I told no one. And a few years later, just as I had been gathering the courage to tell you, you came to me. Told me of your impending marriage, I tried to make you run away with me, and when you would not, I ran away myself because I could not bear to watch you marry another." He laid his cheek on her head.

"Loki," she shifted slightly and cupped his cheek. "I don't want to spend our last few minutes together…"

He began to protest, but this time she shushed him.

"No, I thank the Norns that we had this chance to speak one last time, but I know. I'm dying." She took a shaky breath. "I love you, I think I always have. I love you, I can say it freely now. I love you Loki." She looked up to see tears in his eyes.

"I love you too." He smiled and kissed her gently. He moved with more tenderness than he had ever before. There were tears, his, hers it didn't matter.

If ever a lifetime could be lived in a moment, this was it. They shared the same heart, breathed the same air, and loved completely.

One hand clutched at his shirt, pulling herself tighter to him, her mouth moving almost frantically against him, her tongue tasting, her other hand venturing higher and twining in his hair. She inhaled sharply through her nose.

She pulled back slightly, her head falling forward to rest against his chest. Her lips brushed against his bare skin as she whispered, "I love you," and breathed no more.

It was though her words branded him. An anguished cry tore from his mouth and all of Asgard knew of the mourning of the younger prince.

* * *

_Written to fulfill a prompt on tumblr._

_Imagine you and Loki are best friends but Loki is secretly in love with you. One day you marry a royal guard. Loki leaves for battle because it's too hard for him to watch you get married. After some time Loki comes back only to find you a ghost of yourself. Fragile, weak, on death's door. Loki finds out your husband has been abusing you physically, emotionally, he starves you and chains you up at night. Loki does everything he can to save you. Will it be too late?_

_I just couldn't write this in second person... for some reason I can only write in first or third. I tried to keep it fairly anonymous so that the reader can still feel the same effect as if it were in second person._


End file.
